


Burning Love

by Moonshine_Kei



Series: Osamu / Reader Vignettes [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Bad Puns, Fingerfucking, Kitchen Sex, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Minor Injuries, Oral Sex, Other, This Is STUPID, Workplace Sex, non-explicit burns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2020-10-06
Packaged: 2021-03-08 05:41:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26846842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moonshine_Kei/pseuds/Moonshine_Kei
Summary: If your boyfriend didn’t look so fucking fine with the apron on, this never would have happened.
Relationships: Miya Osamu/Reader, miya osamu / you
Series: Osamu / Reader Vignettes [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1958368
Comments: 2
Kudos: 43





	Burning Love

**Author's Note:**

> Reader is not gendered!

Osamu had you pressed against the counter, mouthing your neck hungrily as he pulled your pants the rest of the way down. 

All you had wanted was to visit him briefly as he closed -just to get a view of his waist cinched in that apron, maybe to pick up lunch for tomorrow- before heading back home. However, as soon as you entered you could tell Osamu was planning something. Sure enough, after waving the last customer out the door and locking up, he had pulled you into the kitchen, kissing you like he hadn't seen you in weeks. 

(You had seen him yesterday.)

Currently, your pants were off and Osamu was on his knees, his tongue working its magic on you. You cursed loudly as he did that thing with his teeth that made your toes curl.

"Fuck, 'Samu," you pant, already closer than you wanted to admit. "You're s'good t-tuh… to me," you stutter out as he pushes one spit-slicked finger into you, quickly followed by another. He scissored them open slightly, teasing another groan out of you. fuck.

You feel his hot breath on your thighs as he pulls away slightly. "Only 'cause you deserve it, darlin'," he huffs out, standing as he does. He towers over you, caging you against the counter. "Think you're ready for me yet?" He asks as he leans into you, grinding his dick into the junction of your hip and closest leg.

Fuck yes you were. You kiss his stupidly sculpted chest and move down to catch a nipple with your teeth, grazing it and relishing the groan you hear your boyfriend trying to suppress. "Only for you, Osamu," you reply. His hands, calloused from years of volleyball, run down your sides and drop to your hips. His journey stops as he pauses to grab your ass and knead at the flesh there, pulling delicious sounds from you as you push into him, sensitive and needy.

"Just for me. Only for me… god, baby, gonna fuck you right here on the counter…" He hooks his hands under your knees and lifts, throwing your feet over his shoulder and pressing the small of your back to the counter behind you.

The first push in has you gasping. It's always a tight fit, trying to cram all of him into you, but the stretch is always so gratifying. He fucks into you gently, easing into you thrust by thrust, inch by inch, your walls tight and hot around him. He bottoms out, pressed into you as far as he can, and stops. You're both breathing hard, your pants the only thing you can hear in the empty kitchen. He looks at you, arms braces on the counter, and says: 

"'M gonna skewer you, babe," with an absolutely shit eating grin.

"Please don't make food puns when you've got your dick inside-"

Your complaint is cut short as he pulls back and slams into you. fuck. Your brain, the mutinous traitor, refuses to work with Osamu's cock jackhammering into you. His thrusting continues, and your arms fail you as well.

You push your hands further to the side, scrambling to get purchase so you can get stabilized and meet his hips halfway. Unfortunately for you, they slide right onto the still-on burner for the forgotten pot of dashi boiling away on the stove that you were fucking directly to the right of.

"Fuck!" Your body jerks violently at the sudden pain. Your hand flies from the stove, flapping as though you could fling the incoming burn away. God damnit. This is absolutely going to blister.

"You cummin' already?" Osamu asks, belatedly. "Oh. Oh shit! Babe!"

He's already pulling out, your legs dropping unceremoniously to the floor. Osamu rushes you to the sink, turning the cold tap as far as it would go and guiding your hand under it, explaining in rushed tones how this will help stop the burn from spreading, to leave it for as long as you can stand it, baby, you'll be fine, I've got you.

It's an admittedly funny sight, 'Samu running around the kitchen like a headless chicken clad only in socks, cock bouncing freely as he rushes to get medical supplies for you. You wish you weren't distracted by the bite of the cold water and the dull stabs of pain from your burned palm.

Osamu appears in front of you suddenly with gauze in hand and concern in his eyes, his still hard dick making a comical slapping sound as it hits his thigh. It swings pendulously from the sudden stop. You snort. It helps, In a way.

He takes your hand with a gentle touch, spreading a cooling salve on the burn before wrapping the gauze around your damaged hand. The tender touching is a far cry from the harsh fuck you were getting only minutes before, but no less welcome. He tapes the gauze in place, pressing your freshly-bandaged hand to your chest and leaning to press a soft kiss to the crown of your head. He can be so soft with you, when he wants. You turn, pressing your face to his chest and embracing him. You can hear his heartbeat thundering in his chest as easily as you can feel his warm skin on yours. This helps, too.

He holds you there for what feels like hours but must have only been minutes. You shift, sighing. Osamu is warm, but you're getting cold. You shift again, and he shifts with you, unconsciously rutting into you.

You look down. His erection, which was pushing into your hip, hadn't flagged at all.   
"Osamu…" you trail off, nonplussed. He pushed again, intentionally. "Osamu. I have a 3rd degree burn. At least."

"Goes to show how hot you are, darlin'," he retorts, bringing your bandaged hand to his face and pressing a gentle kiss to it before cradling it to his chest.

"Baby. That doesn't even make sense…" you trail off as he trails kisses down your arm before moving to your neck again, sucking at the marks he had left earlier. God damnit, you were going to let him continue, weren't you? Damn this man and his charisma.

He lifts you into into a bridal carry effortlessly. He doesn't even strain. Fuck. Shit. You'd let hem get away with anything and he knows it. You've got it bad. Gently, he places you down on a counter far away from the stove.

Osamu leers at you. He makes it look cute, the fucker. "So, where were we?" 

He leans into you. You lean back with him, grinning. The warmth of his chest pressing to yours matches the warmth at your back. The heat at your back. The uncomfortable heat at your back. What…? The SEARING PAIN-

"THE FUCKING- THE RICE COOKER-!!!!"

"SHIT-!!!"

You were never fucking him at work ever again.


End file.
